The next Saturday was only two days before Christmas, and how beautiful were all the stores on the village street!  Even the groceries had Christmas toys and Christmas trees.  A good many boys and girls stood around the store windows pointing out the things they most admired, and wondering what Santa Claus would bring them.  Jack had fifteen quails, which brought him thirty cents; so he was now the owner of half a dollar, which was more money than he had ever possessed in all his life before.  But when two dolls were bought, and they weren’t very fine dolls either, there were only twenty cents left.  Jack did mean to buy something for his mother too, but he had to give that up, and after looking over the bright colored toy-books in the show-case, he selected two little primers, one with a pink cover and one with a blue one, and with a big ache in his throat, parted with his last ten cents for candy.  How very, very little he was buying after all, and not one thing for his dear mother who had sat up till two o’clock the night before, mending his ragged clothes for him.

Jack’s heart was very heavy as he walked out of the gay store with such a little package, but it sank still lower when his father’s tall form loomed up suddenly before him right in front of the door.

“What you doing here?” he asked, sternly.

“Been buying a few things,” said Jack.

“Let me see ’em,” said his father.

[Illustration:  “’LET ME SEE ’EM,’ SAID HIS FATHER.”]

Jack tremblingly opened his package.

“Where’d you get the money?”

“With quails,” said Jack, meekly.

His father fumbled over the things with his big, mittened hand, and said quite gently:  “For the girls, I s’pose.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Jack, beginning to feel relieved.

“Well, run along home.”

Jack was only too happy to do so.  There wasn’t much sympathy between him and his father, nor, indeed, between his father and any of the family—­that is, there didn’t seem to be; but I guess the stream was frozen over, and only needed a few gleams of sunshine to make it bubble on, laughing and gurgling as in the best of hearts.

Jack related his adventures to his mother in whispers, and hid the Christmas articles in the wash-boiler until such time as they should be wanted for certain small stockings.  He told his mother how sorry he was not to have a present for her, and that little speech went a long way toward making her happy.  That night she sat up—­I wouldn’t dare tell you how late—­making cookies,—­something that hadn’t been in the house before that winter.  She cut them out in all manner of shapes that feminine ingenuity and a case-knife could compass, not forgetting a bird for Janey, with a remarkably plump bill, and a little girl for Mary, with the toes turned out.  She also made some balls of brown sugar (the Boyds never thought of such a luxury as white sugar), to make believe candy, for she didn’t know Jack had bought any candy.